Los Angeles daily herald., 1887-08-28
DEATH OF A PARIS MISER.
The Treasure Chamber Un-
enrthed I'm Saint (seryais.


If YOU had been standing in front of
the queer old church on Saint Gervais
at about o'clock yesterday afternoon
you would have seen funeral process
sion issue from a house hidden away
in a corner of the place and halt in
front of the sacred portals.
A very humble procession, indeed,
of what is known to Parisians as the
"eighth class" A hearse reduced to
its simplest expression, one mourning
carriage and solitary mourner-the
concierge OF the dead mans house.
The small deal coffin in the hearse
did not give much trouble to the
Pompes Funebres gentlemen, nor did
the priests put themselves out much
over the funeral service. In very
few moments the mass was scram-
bled through, the gentlemen of the
Pompes Funebres had showed the
coffin back into the hearse, and all
that was mortal of NJ. Denizot,
RENTER, was jogging slowly away to
the cemetery.
In the quarter they called him
'Papa Denizot." A queer, crusty,
lonely little man, who Stunned the
advances of his neighbors and shrank
from answering the questions which
they sometimes ventured to put to
him about his past. AT first, when he
settled down at 10 Rue de Brosses,
fourteen years ago, his taciturnity gave
rise to great deal of gossip. But
gradually people got used to his odd,
shy ways, and ceased to speculate
about him.
After all he was a very harmless
"comme un ours" as they said, why
that was his business.
He was poor. Oh, very poor, evil
IDENTIFY.
He rented one wretched little room
on the top floor of the dingy house at
the side of the church. A chair or
two, a cheap iron bedstead, table
and few prints on the wall-that was
all his furniture. No one ever climbed
the winding staircase to pay him
visit-no one but the grumpy wife of
the concierge, who slept in the stuffy
hole on the entresol He was alone.
Every morning he would shuttle
down the stairs and through the place
dressed in the same shabby old gray
overcoat. He had curious walk and
an odd way of twisting his back about.
Usually big bunch of trinkets dan
gled from his trousers pockets.
Presently they would see him shut
fling into bouillon to buy scrap Of
meat and a little soup for breakfast.
After that he vanished for the day ,and
no more was heard of him until night
fall.
Often the concierge used to ask him
why he did not have some one to look
after him.
"You'll go off in your sleep some of
these days" said the concierge, "and
nobody will know of it."
But he shook his head. How could
he afford to pay any one to look after
him? He was so very poor, and he
had no relatives.
On Sunday morning he did not come
down stairs as usual. The concierge
knocked at his door, and getting no
answer, burst it open. Papa Denizot' {
lay dead in his bed. "Well," said the
concierge, who told Galignani the
story, 81 fetched the police and they
overhauled Papa Denizot's' effects.
On shaking the table which stood near
his bed they heard the clink OF money.
They pulled the drawer out
at was full of gold. Pile after pile,
neatly wrapped in paper. A thousand
francs-l0,0 0,000-50-S0,000 francs, in
bright gold napoleons!
"They searched the mattress and
the cupboards and found more napol-
cons. Altogether 100000 trans were
stored away in that garret. Papa
Denizot,' whom the people had pitied
in his lifetime, was rich. Papa Den
izot' had shares and notes and gold.
And all the time he lodged with us we
never suspected it."
"Papa Denizot's" fortune will be
kept for time to give the missing
heirs a chance of making their claims.
If, at the end of the legal delay, no
application has been made for it, the
miser's money will be contiscated by
the government.-[Galignani's Mes
senger.